


measuring up

by vvelna



Series: magician au [4]
Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-07
Updated: 2019-02-07
Packaged: 2019-10-24 01:10:13
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,833
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17694716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/vvelna/pseuds/vvelna
Summary: Dan gets measured and goes to Phil's apartment for the first time.





	measuring up

**Author's Note:**

> hello! chronologically, this fic takes place after [ smaller spaces ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16392911) and before [ trapdoors ](https://archiveofourown.org/works/16573106)

_hey :) so I know it’s your day off but if it’s not too much trouble could you come round the shop about 2? we just need to take some measurements so wear clothes you can bend in but aren’t too loose. shouldn’t take long. thanks :)_  
  
Dan reads the text from Phil over and over, trying to parse its meaning. Measurements? Measurements for _what?_ Dan’s only known Phil for a few weeks, and he hasn’t quite got the hang of telling when he’s kidding around and when he’s being serious. But if there’s a joke in this text, he can’t find it.  
  
After about two minutes of him staring at his phone and not replying, another text from Phil comes in.  
  
_the measurements are for magic!! nothing weird I promise!! just need to know what size to build things :)_  
  
The second text is followed quickly by a third.  
  
_we’ll be down the hall, third door on the left. if you can come today it’s ok if you can’t!_  
  
Dan’s still a bit wary, but he can’t think of a reason not to go, and he’s not sure he even wants an excuse. So he texts Phil back.  
  
_k_  
  
*

There’s no one in the front shop area of _Rosie’s_ when Dan walks in, except for Marv, the blond barista who earns his paycheck sitting behind the counter on his phone and making about twenty coffees a day. He doesn’t look up when Dan walks in, and Dan doesn’t try to get his attention. He barely knows Marv, but so far he doesn’t particularly like him. There’s a weird tension between him and Phil that Dan can’t decipher the cause of.  
  
He makes his way down the hall and tentatively opens the third door on the left. It’s a room he’s been in before, a week ago when he helped set-up for a finger-painting class led by a woman who kept calling him Dave. Now it’s empty save for a few chairs folded up and leaning against a wall.  
  
No sign of Phil. Dan’s first thought is just that he’s walked into the wrong room. He pokes his head out the door and looks back down the hall. Nope, he’s definitely in the third room on the left. His next thought is that he’s found the joke. Phil’s pulling some kind of prank, obviously. He feels a squeezing pressure in his chest. He remembers when he was eight years old and a few popular kids invited him to hang out at a park after school. When he got there they were nowhere to be found. It was a joke. He waited for hours, shivering because he’d forgotten his coat that morning.

When he finally gave up and went home, he got in trouble for staying out so late without telling his parents where he was. That night he lay in bed in the dark—where he’d been sent with no dinner as punishment—crying and praying that he’d never have to go to school again.  
  
He’d forgotten all about that incident, but now it rises up from some deep well of shame in his brain. His face feels hot and his body numb. Just as he’s about to leave and hurry out of the building, perhaps never to return again, he hears voices from across the hall.  
  
He still wants to run, but the newfound “fuck it” attitude he’s acquired since dropping out of university leads him to the door. He throws it open, like he’s expecting to find a gaggle of his childhood bullies whispering gleefully about how good they’d just got him.  
  
Two people look up when he walks in. They’re sitting at a plastic fold-up table strewn with papers. One is Phil, the other a short black woman in a baby pink Hello Kitty jumper, who he’s never seen before.  
  
There’s a moment of confusing silence, and then Phil’s face lights up and he gets out of his chair, stumbling over his feet a bit on his way toward Dan. Phil always seems happy to see him, and Dan can’t figure out why. Is he just polite or does he actually enjoy seeing Dan that much?  
  
“Dan! You’re here!”  
  
“I’m here,” says Dan, still unsure of exactly what he’s here for.  
  
The woman at the table speaks then. “Oh no, Philip. He’s even bigger than you.”  
  
Dan wants to sink into the floor. They’re both looking at him like they’re waiting for him to do something. Phil’s wringing his hands, his smile sagging just a bit, and the woman at the table is biting her lip while she nervously smooths her hands over some papers in front of her.  
  
Before Dan has a chance to do or say anything more, Phil seems to snap out of his trance and comes forward to tug on one of Dan’s coat sleeves.  
  
“I can take your coat. If you want. It’s kind of hot in here and you can’t wear it anyway. Unless you want to!” Phil pulls his hand away like he’s been burned. “I don’t want to make you uncomfortable. I just mean when we measure you, you can’t have it on then. But now is fine!”  
  
Dan watches him wordlessly. It’s like he’s watching a drowning, but he doesn’t have the necessary social skills to jump into the water and rescue Phil.  
  
Phil searches Dan’s face with wide, almost frantic eyes. The woman at the table gets up—she really is remarkably short—and walks over to them. Dan breathes a sigh of relief internally. Surely she’s going to save them from the tiny hell they’ve stumbled into.  
  
She doesn’t. She thrusts a piece of paper under Dan’s nose. “What do you think this is?”  
  
Dan takes the paper out of her hand to examine it more closely. It looks like a child’s drawing. Heavy black lines depicting a…something.  
  
“Maybe…a rocket ship? Or a house?”  
  
Phil snatches the paper out of Dan’s hand and crumples it up before stalking back to the table.  
  
“I’m Josaphat,” says the woman, extending a hand upward for Dan to shake. “Philip is _so_ creative but he is terrible at drawing and explaining what he wants. It’s very stressful for me.”  
  
“Uh, okay? I’m Dan?”  
  
Josaphat leaves him standing there and goes to join Phil at the table, where he’s sitting red-faced. He gathers some of the papers spread across its surface into a messy pile. Dan decides the best thing to do is join them. He shrugs out of his coat and hangs it over the back of a chair. Underneath he’s wearing his tightest joggers—which aren’t particularly tight, but he’s not swimming in them—and a long t-shirt. The shirt’s the opposite of tight, but he wants it that way. He doesn’t like the idea of wearing something form-fitting—something that clings to his hips and stomach—in front of Phil.  
  
“You know,” he says, sitting down across from Phil and Josaphat, “I think you told me the wrong room earlier. I went to the third one on the left and it was empty. I thought you’d stood me up or something.”  
  
Phil stares at him, brow furrowed. “But this is the third door on—oh, _shit_.”  
  
It’s the first time Dan’s heard Phil swear.  
  
“He doesn’t know his lefts and rights either,” Josaphat explains. She gives Phil a sympathetic pat on the shoulder. Her nails are painted lemon yellow, and it’s such a sharp contrast to the dark brown of her skin that Dan’s surprised he failed to notice them earlier.  
  
Dan can’t help but laugh at the miserable look on Phil’s face. And then Phil’s laughing too, a shy giggle he hides behind his hand. And just like that, the tension’s diffused. Dan balls up his earlier anxieties and shoves them to the back of his mind. Phil wasn’t trying to trick him. He was just a bit of a mess, as usual.  
  
*  
  
Josaphat’s a carpenter. She’s going to be building elements for certain tricks. Dan needs to be able to fit into those elements—hence the measuring.  
  
They measure him in what seems like every possible way. Standing up, crouching down, kneeling, lying flat on his back, on his stomach, arms extended outward, arms at his sides, fetal position, sitting up with legs extended straight out, opened in a V, crossed. They take heights and lengths and widths. Josaphat calls out numbers to Phil, who writes them down. Dan hates it. He doesn’t complain, but hearing his body quantified in so many centimeters makes him want to disappear. He wants to shrink down smaller and smaller until he’s microscopic and they can’t perceive him anymore.  
  
Josaphat has to stand on a chair to measure him when he’s standing up. Then it’s time to measure him from the floor to the tips of his fingers with his arms extended completely above his head, and Phil takes his turn on the chair.   
  
Phil’s so close. Closer even than the day they first met, when Dan let him zip him into a suitcase. Dan feels lightheaded when he thinks about that blind trust and willingness to do anything. It frightens him. He hadn’t thought Phil would hurt him, but he hadn’t _known_. And despite that, he hadn’t cared.  
  
Dan swivels his eyes up and to the side to look at Phil without turning his head. He can see the long, pale line of his neck. Phil’s looking up, one hand on Dan’s arm to steady it, the other pulling the measuring tape to the tips of Dan’s fingers. His hand is soft and his grip is firm. He calls the number out to Josaphat. She’s sitting on the floor, a blue pencil in her hand and a red one between her teeth. She spits that one out as she writes.  
  
“Okay, that’s good for now.”  
  
Phil sinks back down onto his heels and Dan lowers his arms. His shoulders burn. He turns and Phil’s body is right there, stomach a hand’s width from his nose. Phil takes a step back, like he’s just realized how close they are, and wobbles on the chair. Dan can see that Phil’s going to fall, and without thinking, he reaches out to steady him with a hand on his hip. Phil grabs his shoulder and Dan grabs his other hand. It’s only a few seconds and then Phil’s jumping down off the chair and they’re not touching anymore.  
  
Josaphat leaves soon after, headed off to an appointment with another client. She shares an awkward hug with Phil, a pile of crumpled papers in hand.  
  
“Bye, Dan,” she calls, hurrying out the door.  
  
He does an embarrassing little wave and turns back to Phil once the door closes behind her.  
  
“Do you want to do some magic?” Phil asks. “While you’re already here?”  
  
*  
  
Phil isn’t very good at magic. That’s the impression Dan has after watching him struggle through simple tricks over the past few weeks. He thinks maybe it’s nerves making Phil fumble and forget steps. Phil admitted to him early on that the only audiences he’s ever performed in front of were family members and friends when he was a kid. Apparently now, even an audience of one is enough to throw him off.  
  
Today he’s trying to teach Dan another rope trick. Like most of them, it involves pieces of thin rope seeming to magically sever and come back together. But Phil keeps dropping the bits of rope, his face reddening every time he has to bend to pick one up.  
  
Finally he gets it, and Dan claps while Phil takes a theatrical bow.

“Okay, that’s enough,” says Phil. He wiggles his fingers. “There’s not enough magic in these today.”  
  
Dan snorts.  
  
“Unless you want to give it a go?”  
  
Dan shakes his head. “Nah, not today.”  
  
The thing is, Dan has a feeling he could do the trick. He’s done that before—watched Phil struggle to demonstrate something for him, and then done it easily when it was his turn. It didn’t make him feel good. He didn’t want to upstage Phil when his presence might be what was tripping him up so much. Either way, he was sure when they got to more complex tricks, his beginner’s luck would dry up.  
  
“Guess we can call it a day, then.”  
  
Phil gathers up his things, shoving everything into his backpack in a careless way that makes Dan cringe just a little. They both put on their coats and Dan steps into the shoes he’d taken off while he was being measured.  
  
It’s time for them to part ways, and Dan really wishes it wasn’t. He doesn’t want to go back home, to sit in his apartment alone. He doesn’t want to zone out while voices on the television fail to keep adequate company, to scroll through social media feeds and realize after a few minutes that his eyes aren’t focusing and he hasn’t seen a single thing, or to order Domino’s and hope the delivery person assumes there’s someone with him to share the two large pizzas. Pizzas that’ll be finished too soon, the food-induced happiness quickly replaced by a heavy, greasy feeling in his gut.  
  
He wants to stay with Phil.  
  
“Do you like anime?” Phil says, interrupting the downward spiral of his thoughts.  
  
He’s looking at Dan expectantly. Nervously, lip pulled between teeth.  
  
“Um…I don’t know? I haven’t really watched much.”  
  
“Would you like to? With me? Josaphat lent me a DVD and I was going to go home and check it out. If you don’t have anything you need to do, we could go back to my flat and watch it?”  
  
Dan manages to suppress his knee-jerk reaction to say no to any and all invitations.  
  
“Yeah…okay. That sounds fun.”  
  
That earns him a smile from Phil. He wants this. He’s mildly dreading it but he wants it.  
  
“I’ve got to run to the back office and grab some files. Wait for me in the shop?”  
  
“’Kay.”  
  
Dan walks down the hall and into the front shop area. There’s still no customers, just Marv at the counter. He looks up, and Dan quickly looks away, hoping to avoid conversation. It doesn’t work.  
  
“Going back to Phil’s?”  
  
He nods. As much as he’d rather ignore the question entirely, he’s not comfortable with that level of rudeness.  
  
Marv puts his phone down and props his chin up on one hand. He’s got blue eyes like Phil, but Phil’s are prettier.  
  
“I hope you’re not expecting anything,” he drawls. “I know he’s hot, but it’s not happening. Trust me. Phil is a complete loser. He does magic. He’s a virgin who can’t drive.”  
  
Dan wants to snap at Marv. He isn’t sure why he feels so defensive of Phil, who he barely knows. But he does, and it burns hot inside of him. He’s trying to think of something cutting to say, when he hears the slam of a door and Phil’s heavy footsteps coming down the hall. He settles for less.  
  
“Way harsh, Marv,” he mutters, turning to smile at Phil.  
  
“Alright, let’s go! See you later, Marv.”  
  
“Take care, Phil,” Marv says sweetly. Dan shoots him a dirty look as he follows Phil out.  
  
Phil’s building is only about a five minute walk away. They chat about the weather, some upcoming events at Rosie’s, and the television adverts Phil’s been editing this week.  
  
“It’s like, do they even want their product to sell? Or do they want to make people change the channel?”  
  
Through the door and up two flights of stairs. The building isn’t exactly luxurious, but it’s clean. As they make their way down the hall to Phil’s door, Dan wonders who his neighbors are. How well do they know Phil? Are they friends? He doesn’t know why that idea makes him jealous.  
  
It takes Phil a few tries to unlock his door, and then he’s swinging it open, ushering Dan in ahead of him.  
  
Phil’s apartment is cluttered and colorful. Pillows tumbling off the sofa, quirky knick-knacks and homeware everywhere. The TV is surrounded by tangled up game consoles and controllers, and shelves to the side house an impressive collection of DVDs, as well as some books. They hang their coats up on wall hooks shaped like dinosaur heads. Phil snatches up an errant sock on the coffee table and hides it behind a pillow.  
  
Phil’s apartment is small but it’s alive. It looks lived in. It looks like a home. Like he’s taken something from inside himself and filled the space with it.  
  
“Make yourself at home,” Phil says, and Dan hesitantly sits down on the sofa. “Are you still up for the anime?”  
  
“Yeah, sure. What is it?”  
  
Phil kneels in front of the TV, pulling a DVD case out of his backpack.  
  
“It’s called _Parasite Princess._ Basically this girl absorbed her twin in the womb and then she grows up and is in line for the throne but like, a wizard or something brings her twin back to life and then they have to fight for the royal title. At least that’s what I’ve been told.”  
  
“That’s…different.”  
  
“Yeah. Josaphat says I need to expand my horizons. So.”  
  
He pops in the DVD and then he’s sitting on the sofa, too. They’re next to each other, facing the same direction. It strikes Dan that they haven’t engaged in such a seating arrangement before. It’s oddly intimate in a way that excites him.  
  
Phil selects Play All and they’re accosted by an upbeat song and animation dominated by the color pink. Cutesy voices are juxtaposed with the image of a girl bursting out of the body of another, surrounded by swirling petals and twinkling lights like some kind of horrid magical girl transformation.  
  
Dan is tense. At _Rosie’s_ , things were awkward between them sometimes, but not like this. Dan is out of place in Phil’s home. There’s no work to do, no magic to practice. Just two guys who aren’t quite friends yet sitting on a sofa. Dan can’t concentrate on the show at all. His eyes refuse to focus on the subtitles and he has no idea what’s going on. The wide space between his body and Phil’s feels like a canyon he could topple into if he let himself lean toward it. He keeps his body stiff and upright, completely different from the way he watches TV at home—barely sitting up, spine curved like he could be absorbed by the sofa cushions at any moment.  
  
He’d had high hopes for this interaction. Whatever ice remained between him and Phil would be melted away. Whatever barriers lay between them becoming friends who could sit and talk with ease would be broken. Instead, they sit in silence as the episode plays.  
  
Dan is searching his blank mind for something not embarrassing to say, when Phil speaks.  
  
“Dan, are you hungry? I could make something….do you like popcorn?” Phil’s voice sounds oddly high.  
  
“Yeah. That sounds good. Thanks,” Dan replies, wishing his anxiety wasn’t keeping him from sounding enthusiastic.  
  
Phil jumps up and heads for the kitchen, which Dan can see into easily from his spot on the sofa. He watches Phil move about, opening a cupboard to take down a box of microwave popcorn packets. He leaves the cupboard wide open and Dan fights the urge to get up and close it.  
  
Some rustling, the snap of the microwave door opening and closing, a few beeps. The microwave begins to drone.  
  
“Do you want some Ribena, Dan?”  
  
“Sure. Thank you.”  
  
Dan fiddles with his phone as the kernels start to pop. He hears Phil moving about again, getting glasses, opening the fridge, running water. He’s just about to open up twitter when his screen lights up with a call.  
  
It’s his grandma. They used to talk on the phone once every other week, but Dan hasn’t picked up her calls in a while, texting back with excuses about schoolwork he’s not doing and outings with friends that don’t exist.  
  
“Hello, Daniel! How are you?” Her voice is full of warmth and genuine interest, and the tension in his muscles starts to ease.  
  
“I’m good, Gran. How are you?”  
  
“I’m well, darling. What have you been up to?”  
  
Dan searches for something to say. He hasn’t told anyone in his family he dropped out of university. Or that he’s become a magician’s assistant—supposedly—and is doing admin work at the magician’s shop. To be frank, it all sounds a bit ridiculous and it’d probably worry her.  
  
“Oh, you know…the usual. Actually, I’m watching a show with someone right now.”  
  
It’s an attempt to get his grandma to let him go so he doesn’t have to explain any further. It doesn’t work.  
  
“A girl? Is it a date?”  
  
“No, Gran, just hanging out with a friend.”  
  
“You’re not seeing anyone, then?”  
  
“No.”  
  
“I miss Ellie. She was such a lovely girl.”  
  
He does his best not too sigh too audibly before he answers.  
  
“It’s been two years, Gran.”  
  
“I know, dear. When you introduce me to someone new I’ll stop talking about her. You two were so cute together.”  
  
Ellie is Dan’s ex. They started dating in secondary school, and broke up not long after they’d both headed off to uni. It wasn’t a messy or dramatic break up. Just two people who used to really like each other realizing their hearts weren’t in it anymore. Dan doesn’t miss her. He follows her on twitter and instagram, occasionally liking posts and tweets but never really interacting. She does the same for him. Last he saw she was on holiday in the Maldives with her fiancé. Dan hasn’t been with anyone since Ellie. He’d shared a few drunken kisses and fooled around with girls at parties, but that was it.  
  
“Hey, Gran? I have to go. I don’t want to be rude to my friend. But I’ll call you tomorrow, okay?”  
  
Dan really does miss speaking with his grandma. If he wasn’t sitting on Phil’s sofa awaiting popcorn and Ribena, he’d keep talking.  
  
“Alright, Daniel. I’ll hold you to that.”  
  
“Okay, Gran. Love you.”  
  
“I love you, too, Daniel. Take care.”  
  
“Bye.”  
  
He hangs up and looks over at Phil, who’s standing on the threshold that separates the lounge from the kitchen. He has a glass in each hand.  
  
“Sorry. That was my grandma.”  
  
Phil doesn’t speak. He just stares at Dan, and then down at his feet. His brow is furrowed and his jaw clenched. Dan thinks he must be angry with him, but he can’t imagine why. Does Phil think it was rude of him to take a phone call? They hadn’t even been in the same room.  
  
Before Dan can ask Phil what’s wrong, he slips back into the role of cheerful host, smiling and bringing the glasses of Ribena over. He sets one on the table and hands the other to Dan.  
  
“I’ll put the popcorn in a bowl and be right back.”  
  
When Phil returns he plops the popcorn bowl down in the gulf between them on the sofa. Somehow he seems to be sitting even farther away than before. Dan watches him grab a handful of popcorn and waits till his hand is fully out of the bowl before he grabs some for himself. He doesn’t want to risk their hands touching because the smile on Phil’s face looks tacked on, and he’s leaning away from Dan into the arm of the sofa. Dan doesn’t want to fuck anything up any more than it seems he already has.  
  
Phil had left _Parasite Princess_ running and Dan asks if he’d like to rewind, but he shakes his head. Dan’s missed just as much because he hasn’t been paying attention since halfway through the first episode. He doesn’t know if it’s due to his general lack of focus, or if the show is really as boring as it seems despite the intriguing premise. He should’ve asked if they could watch it dubbed, because a foreign language and subtitles don’t lend themselves to lazy consumption.  
  
The ending song starts playing on the fourth or fifth episode and Dan’s trying to think of an excuse to leave. It’s early evening. He has nowhere to be tonight, and doesn’t work at _Rosie’s_ until tomorrow afternoon. He could tell Phil he has plans with someone else, but he doesn’t want to. He doesn’t want Phil to think he’s eager to abandon him for better company. But he doesn’t know how to tactfully explain that he’s disappointed in himself for failing at this particular experiment in social interaction, and it’s eating him alive. His eyes travel the room, like he’s going to find an excuse floating in the air somewhere.  
  
He doesn’t find an excuse, but he sees something much better. A life-preserver. There on the wall up and to the right, his eyes spot a familiar arrangement of colors.  
  
It’s a poster featuring art from an album cover. Race Car Tracheotomy’s _Bunnicular Manslaughter_. His favorite album by one of his favorite bands. His heart leaps with urgent excitement.  
  
“You like RCT?”  
  
Phil looks at him, confused. His eyes travel to the poster and widen.  
  
“I love them!” Phil shifts and he’s fully facing Dan now, one leg underneath him and the other planted on the floor. His sudden movement bounces the bowl of popcorn and Dan moves it to the coffee table before he sends it flying to the floor.  
  
“Me too. They’re like, my favorite band of all time probably. I saw them live when they played Reading Festival a few years ago.”  
  
“ _No way_. You’re so lucky. I’ve never seen them.”  
  
“Next time they play in the U.K., we should definitely go together.”  
  
Dan regrets his words as soon as he finishes saying them. Not because he doesn’t like the idea of going to a show with Phil, but because he must sound way too eager. Phil’s going to be put off.  
  
But Phil’s glowing with a smile and bright eyes. He grabs Dan’s shoulder and gives him a little shake.  
  
“Oh my god, yes! That would be so cool!”  
  
Dan’s heart melts. Phil looks like a little kid on Christmas, just at the mere idea of going to see the band live. Race Car Tracheotomy is an American band; there’s no guarantee they’ll play anywhere near them again soon, if ever. Dan and Phil haven’t actually made plans. But Phil seems so happy.  
  
There’s something blooming inside of Dan. It overtakes his inhibitions, and he finds himself geeking out with Phil, the words suddenly flowing smoothly between them. _Parasite Princess_ plays on in the background, forgotten. Music talk turns to TV talk turns to movies turns to life. Nothing too personal, but it’s the most they’ve talked about anything that wasn’t directly related to their working relationship.  
  
The room gets darker and Phil turns on more lights. Neither of them say anything about Dan leaving anytime soon. They order pizza and Dan eats too much but he doesn’t care, because Phil’s right beside him, groaning with a hand over his stomach, too.  
  
“I should probably head home,” Dan says, after about twenty minutes of lounging in a post-pizza stupor. They haven’t been talking much, but the quiet is comfortable. Dan’s warm, full, and sleepy.  
  
Phil nods and yawns. “Do you want me to walk with you to the nearest station? It’s dark.”  
  
He says it so casually. Of course he’s offering to walk with Dan through the big scary streets of Manchester. Never mind the streetlights or the fact that Dan’s been out at night plenty of times. Dan turns away to hide his smile. It’s such a small thing, but it makes him want to lean over and hug Phil. He doesn’t know why.  
  
“That’s alright, I was just gonna call an uber anyway.”  
  
“You sure?”  
  
“Yeah.”  
  
He checks the app and there’s a driver nearby. Perhaps too close, because it means in a matter of minutes he’s got his coat on and is at the door.  
  
Phil takes him by surprise with a quick hug. It’s over before Dan has a chance to decide if he wants to hug back. He turns and opens the door. Phil waves and he waves back, as if they’re not still standing right in front of each other.  
  
“Goodnight, Dan.”  
  
“Goodnight, Phil.”  
  
He hears the door close when he reaches the stairs, and looks back over his shoulder. Phil must have been watching until he knew Dan would be out of sight.  
  
He’s floating all the way home—through the car ride with a driver who is wonderfully quiet, through the door of his building, up the stairs and into his apartment.  
  
He takes off his coat and shoes and flops onto his bed. He doesn’t bother to undress. No anxious thoughts manage to secure his attention, and he quickly falls asleep.

 

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading!
> 
> [ reblog on tumblr ](https://velvetnautilus.tumblr.com/private/182634004100/tumblr_pmh6sp4akC1wm9q5f)


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